Alien Rampage!
by Dunyazade
Summary: The Question has a warning for Batman.
1. A Question for Batman?

_Author's note: to keep my sanity while working on various NON-humorous stories, I've been writing this little fiasco on the side. It is strictly for grins and giggles-- and yes, it IS poking fun at certain... themes.... (o_O) seen in the comics and in fanfiction. It incorporates a little bit of Huntress/Question, but be warned: Huntress and Nightwing had a horrible little fling in the comics, and that is mentioned here.  
_

* * *

Alien Rampage!

Chapter one: A Question for Batman?

Huntress was walking down one of the halls of the Watchtower when suddenly an arm darted out and pulled her into a broom closet.

"What the—_Q_?" she asked in the dark, a little hopefully.

"It's me," the Question confirmed.

Helena repressed a hungry giggle. "Well, _hello_," she murmured, sidling up to him, making sure to graze the outside of his thigh with the inside of her own.

"I have something for you," Vic Sage said to her in a low, husky voice.

Helena reached for his belt. "I bet you do."

He stepped back a little, causing Huntress to frown. She looked up at where the dim outline of his non-face was just becoming visible. "…It's a message for Batman," he said, totally ruining everything.

* * *

And now, Huntress was on a mission. She marched through the halls of the Watchtower until she spied his bat-ears poking up from behind a computer terminal. He was right where Vic had said he'd be, a fact which inexplicably pissed her off.

Batman was minding his own business, and was actually just checking his e-mail, when suddenly his screen was turned off and he found his field of vision obscured by a lithe young woman's bare midsection. He grit his teeth and looked up at her violet-masked face.

"_What_."

She didn't even flinch. She just glared back at him. "Look. Are you _gay?_"

Batman stood up, menacingly, shoulders hunched. His cape closed around him. "Are _you?_" he asked darkly.

She smirked. "Ask Nightwing."

"Ask me what?" Dick Grayson just so happened to stroll by at that moment, half a turkey sandwich from the cafeteria in his hand. Batman and Huntress both turned their heads to look at him. He chewed his food innocently.

Somehow, Huntress just _knew_ that Batman wasn't going to cooperate. She narrowed her eyes at Nightwing, and made sure to put just the right amount of benign, girlish curiosity in her tone. "Is Batman gay?"

Dick chewed his sandwich, considering the hulking Batman. "God, I hope not," he answered at last, cheerfully. "Can you imagine the therapy I'd need?"

"_Seriously_," Huntress hissed, as if the acid in her voice could burn through Dick's attitude.

"Seriously?" Dick echoed brightly. "It's none of my business." He smiled angelically, and took another bite of his sandwich.

Huntress looked ready to punch him, but Batman's voice beat her to it: "What are you doing here?" it was a flat question, jam-packed with subliminal disapproval. "You aren't on the roster."

Dick paused, and for a split second he looked at Batman strangely, as if trying to decide whether or not he was supposed to let that _hurt_. And just as he was about to reach his decision, Wally materialized beside him.

"Relax, Bats! I invited him up here. I need his help with something." He clapped a hand down on Nightwing's shoulder. Dick beamed at him, and Wally returned his grin. Cute as muffins, side by side.

"_His_ help," Batman repeated.

Dick rolled his eyes. "I know, I know: 'anything _I_ can do, you can do _better_,' right?"

"That's not what I meant," Batman growled.

_"HHRRAUGH!"_ The familiar battle-cry was followed by a deafening crash as Hawkgirl's mace demolished a nearby door, cleaving her way into the room. Batman, Nightwing, Flash and Huntress stared at her, totally caught off guard. Hawkgirl stepped into the room, tipped her head to the right, and then to the left, as if working a knot from her neck, and then sniffed the air. "Do you guys _smell_ that?" she asked, sounding annoyed. "Tension in here is too _thick_ for a knife."

"Shayera," Batman rumbled, voice cold. "You just _ruined_ that door."

"My access code wasn't working," Shayera said with a shrug. "Take it out of my paycheck for the next few years." She ran her eyes over the unfamiliar character in the streamlined black and blue costume. "Who's the hottie? New recruit?"

"Old friend, actually," Wally said. "Nightwing, meet Hawkgirl. Hawkgirl, Nightwing."

"Nice to finally meet you." Dick held out his hand with an irresistible smile, but Shayera had both hands on her mace, and didn't look remotely interested in changing her grip. Instead she sniffed the air again, in obvious disdain.

"You smell human to me. What's your deal?"

"Oh, the usual," Dick replied, dropping his hand but not his grin. "Justice, crime fighting, saving the world. That stuff."

"Any special powers?"

"Heh." Dick leaned back, put his chin in the air a little. "Ask Huntress."

Shayera gave him a look that reminded them all that hawks were deadly predators. "Don't think I _won't_."

Huntress held up both hands and made a separating motion. "Oh-Kay, that's enough. Bats, I kinda needed to speak to you alone."

"Leaving," Wally announced brightly, steering Dick towards the ruined door.

Dick lifted a hand in casual wave. "See y'round, Batman."

Batman turned to Shayera, and didn't even need to glare.

"Don't worry, I'm outta here," she said in disdain.

* * *

Once they were alone in the room, Huntress sighed and folded her arms. "Look, Q sent me up here to find you." She lowered her voice. "He, uh, he wants you to meet him."

"Where?"

Even her large purple mask couldn't completely hide the blush that crept over her face. "In the third stall of the _men's bathroom_ next to the armory," she said in a well-rehearsed rush. "He said you'd know why."

Batman frowned, and then turned his back to Huntress. When he began to stalk away, she called after him.

"Hey, wait a minute! Don't you want to tell me what this is all about?"

"No."

Huntress scowled. "So you're just off to rendezvous with the Question in a bathroom stall, and I'm not supposed to think that's totally _gay?_"

"You can think what you like." Batman was already stepping over the wreckage of the busted door. "As long as you have enough sense to keep your thoughts to yourself."

Huntress scrunched up her face in frustration. Whether he was gay with Batman or not, she decided, Vic was _so_ taking her out to dinner for putting her up to this.

...to be continued!...


	2. Loop time

Chapter two: Loop time

Booster Gold was whistling to himself as he took care of his business at one of the urinals in the men's bathroom next to the armory. No one (aside from Skeets) knew that _what_ he was whistling was his personal heroic _theme_. It was still a work in progress and he wasn't quite happy with it yet—it wasn't _catchy_ enough. He was going for something between a fast-food jingle and a victory march.

He didn't even hear the door open, and so it was by pure chance that he happened to catch the sudden presence of a shadow in his peripheral vision. He turned his head just in time to notice that the Dark Knight seemed to have materialized inside the restroom, and was currently stalking right towards him at a semi-alarming speed.

"Oh, uh, hey Bats," Booster Gold attempted, too startled to care if such a greeting violated any of the rules of twenty-first century urinal etiquette.

Not that Batman seemed to have any regard for said etiquette, as evidenced by the fact that he was still moving directly towards Booster Gold when he _should_ have stopped at one of the further-away urinals instead.

Booster gulped and a flurry of desperate thoughts played pachinko in his mind. This was not a good time for a Bat-chat. He was kinda in the middle of taking a leak. Should he try to hurry up? Wasn't that, like, a sign of nervousness? What was worse, Batman knowing that Booster was freaked out, or risking whatever encounter the Bat had in store for him? He had _totally_ cleaned up the thing with the sunscreen and the proton phasers so it wasn't like Batman had any _particular _reason to be on his case, unless of course he'd found out about that other thing with the cheerleaders and the Batmobile which wasn't _actually_ Booster's fault.

Suddenly it was too late to think about anything. Batman was right in his face, standing so close to him that his chest almost brushed the outside of Booster's arm.

Booster Gold grit his teeth, and froze in dread.

"You're done here," Batman muttered. "Get out."

Booster produced a sound which pretty much rhymed with something the Flash might have said whenever _Fire_ tried to initiate a conversation with him, and point-five seconds later, he was out in the hall, still tucking things back into place and almost feeling _scared_ enough to need to find another bathroom.

* * *

Back inside the restroom, Batman didn't even bother to smirk. He stalked over to the third stall, and stepped inside.

The lid was down on the toilet, and the Question was sitting on it cross-legged, his chin resting on his folded hands.

"I see you got my message," said the faceless man.

"How did you know about this place?" Batman demanded.

Q's non-face shifted in a way that suggested he'd just raised his eyebrows. "After Superman showed me that private conference room of yours, I decided it would be worth my time to take a good look at the Watchtower's blueprints. _All_ of them."

"Meaning, the ones _I_ memorized and then destroyed."

"What's the old saying, Batman? Nothing can be destroyed, only _rearranged?_ Anyway, imagine my lack of surprise when I discovered that the Watchtower is rife with dimensional anomalies like the one we're standing in. Being one sliver of a degree out of sync with our regular dimension means nobody can _hear_ us in here, right?"

"It's a complete dead zone," Batman confirmed. "Nothing can detect our presence here, not even J'onn."

"Interesting _location_, I have to say…"

"_Accidental _location," Batman corrected. "The anomalies appear at random. They're an inert side effect of certain overlapping systems." His eyes narrowed. "…which, of course, you already know."

"I also know that this is the only anomaly larger than a tennis ball. And I'm happy to hear that J'onn can't _listen in_, because he's _one of them_."

The Question shuddered at his own ominous tone of voice. Batman was not impressed. "What's this all about?"

"I'm trying to warn you," Q said. "Look, you don't have to believe me, but _everything_ I've been monitoring indicates that we're living in _loop time_ and any day now, one of the _aliens_ is going to _act out_."

"Why warn _me?_"

Q sighed and shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe I just have a _hunch_ that you'll be the victim. Maybe it's even _more_ than a hunch. Maybe it's something subliminal that worked its way into my brain while I was tallying up word occurrences on Earth-7 internet pages. Did you _realize_ that Earth-7's _Zesti-Cola_ commercials are responsible for--"

"I don't _care_. What did you mean by 'loop time'?"

The Question chuckled, and sounded just _crazy_ enough to really start to get on Batman's nerves. "It's worse than I thought," he half-whispered. "Not a time loop. _Loop time_. There is no linear progression. Just endless _recurrence_. Endless scenarios, variations on themes, no real continuity. Everything _concomitant_--"

"Sorry I _asked_. But what does any of that have to do with aliens?"

Q gave him a blank look. An even blanker-than-usual look. "_Think_, Batman. When aliens come to earth, what do they _want?_"

Well, _this_ was a no-brainer. "To destroy the planet," Batman answered immediately, recalling not-too-distant events.

"Yes, but, aside from that."

"…to enslave humanity."

"That too, but… on a smaller scale…"

"To kidnap specimens for an intergalactic zoo."

Question did a double take. "That happened to you too?"

"Once or twice."

"Anyway… keep guessing. Think more along the lines of 1940s sci-fi pulp magazines," Question prompted.

Batman frowned. "They want… to experiment on humans."

"Sometimes."

"To _breed_ with humans."

"Bingo."

Batman sneered in disgust. "Ugh."

"…It's happened to you before, hasn't it?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"_I knew it_," Question sputtered in an excited whisper. "I was right all along. When it occurs, you'll be in the middle of it."

Batman reached for the door handle. "That's enough. Even _I_ am not paranoid enough to buy into this ridiculous nonsense."

"Really?" The Question asked curiously. "Are you _sure?_ Just think of the aliens that you _know_. And you _do_ know a few. You know a few quite _well,_ in fact."

Frost formed on Batman's words. "If you are _implying_--"

"I'm not," Q exclaimed, holding his hands up. "I just want you to know that it's a _theme._ In various other dimensions and so forth… other versions of the Justice League…it's undeniable that the chemistry is there. And if a certain spark were to go off, there's nothing to stop either of--"

"You've barked up this tree before," Batman growled. "You think there's nothing to stop _this_ version of myself from suffering the same fate as other versions. But you're wrong. We all learned that lesson-- _nothing_ is truly inevitable. There's always a _chance _for a different outcome."

Question's non-face shifted in a way that made Batman suspect he was smiling. "And chance favors the prepared mind, doesn't it?"

Batman shifted his weight. "…Yes," he conceded, and opened the door.

"Wait!" Question exclaimed. Batman already had his back turned, and was about to cross the anomaly's threshold. But he paused, begrudgingly listening to whatever else the Question had to say. "… Don't you want to know the _real_ reason why the _big three_, Superman, Wonder Woman and _you_, all have _black hair_ and _blue eyes?_"

"No."

Batman stepped forward and pulled the door shut behind himself, leaving the Question alone, still sitting cross-legged on the toilet.

* * *

He took the shortest route down to the hangar. He had to get back to his cave to finish an old project of his. His mind was already dredging up the design specs, running through the steps that would be necessary to complete the prototype, when suddenly the _last _person he wanted to talk to floated up through the floor right in front of him.

"Batman," J'onn said, in a voice that was dense and hollow at the same time. "Zatanna and I were look--"

"Not now," Batman grumbled, not breaking his stride. "I'm busy."

A fact which didn't prevent the _second-to-last_ person that Batman wanted to talk to from stepping out of an elevator practically right next to him.

"Oh, hey, Bruce," Superman said, pleasantly surprised to have run into him. "I just saw _Nightwing_ up here a little while ago. Are you finally letting him join the League?"

The need to set the record straight on that issue was enough to stop Batman in his tracks. He bared his teeth. "I was never _not _letting him," he growled. "He was _occupied_ with the _Titans_."

"Oh, right," Superman said. He smiled over at the Martian Manhunter, who was standing there in solemn worry. "Hi J'onn. You tell him about the meteor storm yet?"

"I was going to, but…"

"_What_ meteor storm?"

J'onn started to answer, but Batman cut him off before he began. "No. Nevermind. I don't want to know." He turned back towards the hangar. "I have to finish something. Don't call me."

He stalked away, leaving behind a perplexed-looking Superman and an even more worried J'onn.

"Wow, what's with him?" Supes asked, once the Bat was out of earshot.

"I'm not sure," J'onn replied. "He… was _singing_ to himself, in his head. He does that when he wants to keep me out of his mind."

"Well _that's_ a handy trick," Superman remarked. "He really is something else, isn't he?"

"Yes," J'onn agreed. "But I sense that something is troubling him."

Superman looked down the corridor in the direction that Bruce had gone. Worried lines appeared across his forehead.

"…hmm."

…to be continued…


	3. Cape, Cowl and Chocos

_Author's note: eek, don't hate me. Remember, I'm making fun of fanfiction with this one. eh heh..._

* * *

Chapter three: Cape, Cowl and Chocos

The sprayer hissed as it coated the Kevlar weave with a thin layer of jet-black paint. When the last square inch was covered, Batman pulled back his goggles and waited, critically eyeing his work.

Five seconds later, as the paint dried, the _green _began to show through.

Bruce swore under his breath, which earned him a reproachful glance from his butler.

"Might I _suggest_, sir, that if you didn't want the suit to _clash_, you could have used some other variety of the mineral? Red, perhaps?"

"Red makes him crazy."

"So you _are _intending to expose Master Clark to this charming creation. Ah. How thoughtful of you, sir."

"It won't hurt him unless he touches it," Bruce muttered.

Alfred raised his eyebrows a fraction of a millimeter. "I should think it would _hurt_ him to even know that you _have_ such a thing."

Bruce clenched his jaw and got to work on another layer of paint.

Four layers later, the suit was undeniably black… with a sinister greenish tint. Oh well—the meteor storm was expected to start any minute, and Batman was due back at the Watchtower.

* * *

J'onn, Clark, and Diana all turned and looked at Bruce as he stepped onto the bridge. Mentally steeling himself, he slunk into his seat at the console.

"What's the status?" he grumbled, looking at the display.

Superman and Wonder Woman traded glances over his head.

"So…" Clark began carefully, ignoring his question. "We haven't seen you in a few days. You missed your monitor shift."

"I was busy."

"Right, you had to 'finish something.' So… how'd it go?"

"Fine."

Suddenly Clark noticed. He smiled. "Hey, is that a new batsuit?" he asked amicably. "It almost looks… green."

"Just don't touch me."

Superman blinked.

Diana's mouth fell open.

J'onn's face twitched as he processed the silent tsunami that had just swept through the room.

"Wow," Clark said slowly after a minute. "You know, Lex has something similar. You could have just borrowed _his_ instead of making your own."

"It's just a precaution. Once the meteor storm is over, this suit will go back on the shelf and hopefully never see the light of day again."

"The meteor storm?" Clark asked, confused. "What does _that_ have to do with anything?"

Suddenly J'onn got through to Bruce's head, and what he glimpsed there made him gasp. "_No_—he's afraid that you—" he hung his head in despair. "—no. It's too horrible to say. Better that you don't know."

Superman looked worried. "Bruce, this is serious. Do you think I'm going to _attack_ you? Do you know something the rest of us don't?" Batman stared stubbornly at the images of the oncoming meteors. "…J'onn?" Superman asked.

"It's no use," J'onn muttered. "He's closed his mind again. These… suspicions… that he has… there's no way for me to tell where they came from."

"Perhaps they're derived from his own paranoia and nothing more," Wonder Woman suggested coldly.

"Perhaps. I wish I could _sense_…" the Martian reached hesitantly for Batman's shoulder.

"_Don't_," Bruce warned, a split second too late.

When J'onn's hand got within a few inches of the suit, the entire ensemble burst into flames.

J'onn cried out, raising his arms and staggering backwards. The flames subsided, leaving Batman completely unharmed—with all three of his teammates staring at him in shock.

Diana recovered first.

She grabbed Bruce by the neck with an iron grip. "Have you anything in that suit to repel _me_?" she asked. "Other than your own twisted _ego_, I mean."

"I'm not afraid of _you,_" he said quietly, and perhaps a little too honestly.

Wonder Woman drew back her fist. "Maybe you _should_ be," she said.

A strange sniffling sound interrupted the scene then, and all heads turned to look at J'onn, who was in the process of tearing open a package of chocos. He sniffled again, something no one had ever heard him do before, and put three cookies into his mouth at once.

"J'onn? Are you okay?" Clark asked.

"No, I am not," J'onn replied.

"You… eat those when you're upset?" Diana asked, blinking a few times and seeming to forget her intentions to either beat Batman senseless or beat sense into him, whatever came second.

"Yes," J'onn answered solemnly, picking up another cookie. "It's something I learned from Flash."

"_HHRRAUGH!"_ They all jumped as the nearest door was shattered by a single stroke from a crackling mace. Shayera strode into the room, eyes gleaming. "God, is that _chocolate?_" She made a beeline for J'onn. "Give me that." He stood there in shock as she snatched the cookie right out of his hand and stuffed it into her own mouth. She chewed angrily for a few seconds. "I could _smell_ that from three floors down," she announced, wiping crumbs from her mouth.

Everyone was staring at her. She glared back at them, emerald eyes flashing as she looked side to side. Then she sniffed the air. "_Ugh!_" she exclaimed. "Don't you smell that _tension?_ What the heck is _wrong_ with this place? That _stench_ is everywhere. It's been driving me crazy for days. And has anybody seen whats-his-face, Nightbird? Night-thing? You know, the cute one. I've been looking for him."

Nobody moved. Shayera looked back and forth at them all again. "All right, what's going on?" she demanded. Her eyes locked on Batman. "What's with the _green suit?_" But she already had a hunch, and a glance at Clark's face confirmed it. Her eyes narrowed. "Kryptonite? Seriously?" she hissed, adjusting her grip on her mace. "How can you _be_ so… HAAAH!"

Batman had no time whatsoever to prepare for the attack. He tried to dodge, but Shayera's mace struck him across the chest, ripping off a palm-sized chunk of his suit just under the bat-symbol.

"Batman!" Clark lunged, and caught Bruce just before he crashed into the console-- and then immediately slumped to the deck himself.

"Clark you _idiot_," Bruce said in a ragged voice, scrambling away from Superman as quickly as he could—and backing straight into another blow from the mace. "_Nngh!_" Another piece of the suit went skittering across the floor, and Batman landed on his elbows and knees.

"Hawkgirl, stop!" Diana commanded, flying over and grabbing Shayera's wrists as she raised the mace above her head. "What are you _doing?_"

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm getting rid of that horrible _suit!_"

"Oh," Diana said, and released her grip. "Good idea."

"HRRUAAH!"

J'onn helped Clark to his feet, shielding him as best he could as pieces of Kryptonite-treated Kevlar went flying left and right. "…You don't think we should stop her?" J'onn asked Wonder Woman.

"Not particularly," Diana replied. "She _is _avoiding all his vital organs."

"I've got other plans for _those_," Shayera said hungrily. "You all might want to _clear out_. I'm not going to be _done with him_ for quite a while."

Diana frowned. "What do you mean? The suit's almost gone."

"nnh," Batman grunted from the floor, making a pathetic effort to crawl away.

Shayera pointed at him with her mace. "I've just decided that he might be able to solve a little _problem_ I've been having. A problem called _being snubbed_ by John Stewart."

"I fail to see how Batman can prevent you from being snubbed," Wonder Woman stated in her most regal tone of voice. Shayera rolled her eyes and grabbed the back of Batman's cape.

"Fine, _don't_ leave. I'll just take him down to my room. And boys? Enlighten _her majesty_ here, when you get a chance."

Propping her mace on her shoulder, Shayera dragged Batman towards the elevator… which suddenly opened, revealing an immediately startled-looking Nightwing.

Shayera's eyes went wide. "_There_ you are," she scolded, dropping her hold on Batman's cape.

"Hey, is that _Batman?_" Dick asked in concern. "What happened? Is he--"

"He'll be fine," Shayera murmured, stepping into the elevator and wasting no time pushing Nightwing up against the wall. "But _you'll_ be _better_."

"What the… hey!" Nightwing tried to twist away from her, but she was too strong. She pinned his hands against the wall, over his head, and leaned in.

Dick turned his face away, eyes scrunched shut. "Why does this _always_ happen to me?" he lamented, as Shayera started behind his _ear_, and scraped her teeth down the side of his neck until they caught the collar of his suit.

She bit down and tugged. _Riiip. _That was a start. Shayera planted a kiss on his now-exposed collar bone and smiled wickedly. "Poor _baby_. I'll be happy to explain it to you, once you're naked."

"You barely even _know_ me!" Dick protested, turning his head to the other side and trying his best to climb up the wall at his back.

"That's it… you just keep on struggling," Shayera advised huskily. "It's _very_ hot."

Nightwing opened his eyes, and looked over Shayera's head at the roomful of speechless spectators. "Umm… _help?_" he asked desperately.

Shayera looked over her shoulder, and the intensity of her glare was enough to stop even Superman in his tracks. "_Don't_ you dare," she threatened. "_Any_ of you. First person who interferes gets my _mace_ shoved _right_ up their--"

"Okay, _okay_," Nightwing said, recanting. "Guys? Wonder Woman? Forget it. It's not worth it. It'll be all right."

Shayera pulled him off the wall and pressed him to the floor instead. "Good _boy_," she said, straddling his hips.

Superman looked incredibly disturbed. "You can't be serious."

Nightwing sighed. "Trust me, I'm… I can deal with this," he admitted reluctantly. "I'm mean, I've definitely been through worse."

"_Worse_, eh?" Shayera murmured, sounding as if she were accepting some sort of challenge.

Switching instinctively to self-preservation mode, Dick raised his hands in surrender. "Which is not to say that this is _bad_ or anything, you know, it's just…" he attempted a smile. "I mean, can I least take you out to _dinner_ sometime?"

Shayera reached over and used her mace to press the button that would close the elevator door. "We'll see," she smirked. As the door slid shut, everyone remaining on the bridge heard her say: "So, Nightwing. Is it true you have a thing for _redheads?_"

* * *

Later that night, somewhere in Gotham City, under cascades of brilliant shooting stars, Vic Sage awoke with a gasp. "_Of course!_" he exclaimed in a breathless whisper, sitting straight up.

Beside him in the bed, Helena Bertinelli rolled over, brushing her hair from her eyes. "Q?" she asked sleepily. "What's wrong?"

"_I_ was wrong," the Question exclaimed, clutching his face. "I forgot to consider it—the other dimensions—the _overlap_--I didn't _warn_ him!"

"Warn _who?_ What are you _talking_ about?" Huntress demanded, annoyed. She sat up next to him.

Still grasping his face with both hands, he struggled to explain. "A few days ago, when I had a message for Batman? Well, I'd forgotten that in one particular dimension, Batman isn't… isn't _him_…" he looked at her unmasked eyes, and then up at the window which she hadn't allowed him to cover in aluminum foil, and realized he couldn't use _names_. "…Batman's _someone else!_"

"Someone else? Like who?"

"Nightwing," Vic answered weakly. "The message… the warning… should have been for _him!_ Because _he's_ Batman now! The alien's going to go after _him!_ I have to--"

Helena narrowed her eyes. "_Vic_," she said icily. "Shut _up_. One: all this nonsense about _Nightwing _being _Batman?_ Makes no sense. Two: if some kind of alien _is_ after Nightwing, I'm sure he can _handle it._ And Three: if you _ever_ mention Nightwing _or_ Batman ever again while you're in bed with me, you better hope one of _them_ will want to sleep with you or you'll be sleeping all alone. Got it?" She slammed herself back down on her pillow without waiting for a reply.

Vic sat still for a long moment, letting some of her sheer _sanity_ sink into his troubled mind. At last he lay down behind her, dropping an arm around her waist. "Got _you_," he muttered into her hair.

She started to smile, snuggling back against his chest, when once again he ruined the moment.

"…but _you_ gotta get some _foil_ for those windows."

The End!

* * *

_Another note: ...nope. I'm too tired to explain anything. This chapter used to be much longer. If you are confused by something, just let me know what it is and I will explain it to you. I promise I had a thought process at work here at some point. lol.  
_


	4. the extended edition

_Author's note: Yes, this story was over, but just for the heck of it (and because a really cool person asked for it), this is a rewrite of what I ended up cutting out of the last chapter. There are major spoilers for the events in the Nightwing comic books from about four years ago… enjoy!

* * *

_

As soon as the elevator door closed, obscuring Nightwing and Hawkgirl from view, Superman turned his attention back to the silently suffering Batman. Given the electric-like properties of Shayera's mace, Clark knew that what Bruce had just endured had been equivalent to being repeatedly tasered.

The man was just starting to recover the use of his limbs. Clark squinted, checking for remnants of harmful radiation first before leaning down and offering Bruce a hand. Bruce, struggling to ride out the pain in his system, looked up at the hand Clark was holding out towards him, and then averted his eyes.

Superman's expression fell just a little, and he immediately looked away as well—but just as he started to withdraw his hand, he felt Bruce reach out and grab hold of it.

Wordlessly, Clark pulled him to his feet. Batman gritted his teeth and steadied himself between Clark and the back of his chair. Once he was reasonably sure that Bruce wouldn't fall over, Clark let go of his hand, and Bruce eased himself into his seat.

Clark looked up at J'onn and Diana for suggestions. Diana made a face that could only have meant '_say something!_', and so Clark cleared his throat, and sat down next to Bruce.

He took a breath.

"No, Clark. Don't," Batman said. "…I'll explain."

A moment passed in utter silence before he spoke again. "…the Question was wrong," he growled. "He told me I was in danger. He told me that an _alien_ was going to assault me—and he led me to believe that it was going to be one of you two. And… even though I couldn't rule you out, J'onn," he looked up at the solemn Martian, and then locked eyes with Superman. "…I honestly thought it would be _you_."

"Why?" Clark asked.

Batman set his jaw. "_Because_—" he started to say, but failed to find the right words. He looked to J'onn, silently asking for help.

"Because the Question is overly concerned with dimensional reflection, fearing that events in other realities are somehow destined to be mirrored in this one," J'onn explained. Clark blinked at him, and without hesitation, J'onn continued, completely straightforward. "And in various dimensions, the two of you have been _linked_ romantically."

Diana raised her eyebrows, looking to Clark for a reaction.

"…And?" Clark asked after a minute.

Bruce gave him a scalding look. "And that doesn't _bother _you?"

Clark returned his glare with a grin. "Well, now that you mention it…" he laughed. "No. I mean, does the existence of a dimension like that really _surprise_ anyone? I seem to remember there being a dimension where we're both women. And don't forget the dimension where we're both _evil_—_that's_ the one that 'bothers' me."

Batman hunched forward, eyes narrowed and chin in his palm.

"This is unbelievable," Diana said, trying not to sound too accusatory. "You thought that because some other Superman is attracted to some other Batman, _our_ Superman might _attack_ _you_?"

"_Yes,_ Diana," Batman answered darkly. "I did think that. That's how I think. I look at worst-case scenarios. Whatever happened to Shayera _could_ have happened to Clark. And if it _had_, then what just happened to Nightwing _could_ have happened to me!"

For a moment no one said anything. Then Diana's face contorted in an age-old combination of pity and disgust. "The inside of your mind must be a horrible place," she remarked.

"It _is_," J'onn assured them gravely.

Bruce's shoulders tensed. "The inside of my mind is my own business, not yours," he growled at all of them. "There's something I have to say. To _Clark._"

J'onn and Diana got the hint, and backed off. J'onn sank through the floor, and Diana muttered "it had better be an apology," before striding out into the hallway.

"…this isn't easy for me," Batman muttered at length.

"It's okay, Bruce. You don't _have_ to tell me any--"

"Yes, I do."

Clark shut up, taking a deep, patient breath.

"…You're so _good_, Clark. All the way through. Over and over again, when I see you…I hate that I have to consider the possibility of you _not_ being good. But that will never _stop _me from considering it. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I get it. You're constantly worried about me being out of control or turning evil. And you know what?" Clark smiled at him. "I'm _thankful_ for that."

Bruce shook his head, abandoning the point he'd been trying to make. And then, out of nowhere, he actually grinned a little. "That _other_ Batman…" he said, getting Clark's attention. "…Doesn't deserve you."

Clark raised an eyebrow. If _Bruce_ of all people could dredge up a sense of humor here, Superman could do no less.

He sighed, a bit dramatically. "There you go again, making me want to hug you when you're covered in poisonous residue from my favorite xenomineral."

"Sorry."

"Forgiven."

Their eyes met, and for a second they each had to fight the invisible inertia that might have pulled them into a hug if they each hadn't been acutely aware of the lingering Kryptonite on Bruce's clothing. The recollection of said Kryptonite had a visibly greater effect on Bruce, as he actually jerked backwards a little, and refocused his attention on the console.

"The meteor storm's starting. Are the diagnostic imagers online?" Bruce tapped a few keys.

Clark leaned back in his seat. "Everything's all set. And the molecular analysis will pretty much run itself. For now, all we have to do is sit back and enjoy the show. And, by the way, it's going to be pretty spectacular."

Bruce entered the command that would allow various data collection programs to operate autonomously.

And then they both looked out at the stars, just in time to see the first brilliant wave of meteors sparkle through the earth's atmosphere.

"…Are you worried about Nightwing?" Clark asked a while later, ruining the companionable silence that Bruce had almost been enjoying.

"Should I be?" Bruce asked back.

"He did _give in_ sort of quickly. Sacrificing himself so none of us would have to fight for him-- like he didn't think he was worth it."

Bruce's mouth twitched. "I _meant_, should I be worried about him _right now?_ You're the one with super hearing."

"Which I _do not_ use to listen in on _everything_," Clark reminded him. "However…" he made a face, and then blushed a little bit. "Now that you mention it, he seems to be okay."

"Good. He should be. He said he could handle it."

Clark shifted, silently indicating that that wasn't enough.

Bruce's shoulders slumped. "…But I'll talk to him later," he conceded. "To make sure he's all right."

* * *

Shayera stared down into her fettuccine, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks again.

Across the table, Dick watched her thoughtfully, busily chewing his steak. She'd been blushing about every three or four minutes since they sat down. Her right hand was resting on the table, absently holding her fork, but she'd yet to take a bite of her food.

Swallowing, Dick reached out and touched her hand, an action which nearly caused her to jump out of her seat. "Hey," Dick said. "You okay?"

She glanced up at him, and blushed three times as hard. "Sure, fine," she said, and leaned her forehead into her left hand, putting both her elbows on the table. She looked at Dick again, under the shadow of her hand. "I'm getting the check tonight, just so you know," she muttered. "And that's not up for debate."

"I think I can live with that." Dick smiled, cutting another bite of steak. "So…" he said carefully.

"I just can _not_ believe I did that to you," Shayera said in a low rush. "I want to apologize, but, I just don't know how."

"Seriously, Shayera, don't worry about it. You weren't yourself. And honestly, I feel kind of lucky—"

"_Lucky?_" she exploded, accidentally bending the fork in her hand. "Are you really that brainwashed? You didn't get _laid_ last night, you got raped!"

Dick sighed, and then smiled. "Well. Whatever I got, I liked it. So don't feel too guilty."

"You don't understand, Dick—I _am _guilty. I feel like a criminal! I… I almost want to go to _jail_ for this."

"You're being _way_ too hard on yourself," Dick insisted, shaking his head. "I mean, the, uh, _savagery_ was a little…interesting, but nobody got hurt, and I promise you—I liked it. You were amazing."

Shayera blushed neon-pink, and looked at her food again. "…I guess I can probably expect Starfire to kick my ass now."

"Kory?" Dick laughed. "No. She might ask me if I had a good time, and when I tell her yes, she'll just be happy for me."

"Funny, isn't it?" Shayera asked, still blushing. "Me and Starfire, I mean. We're both red-haired, green-eyed, alien warrior chicks."

"And you both _fly_," Dick pointed out. "_And_ you're both really strong. Which is very hot, I have to add. But anyway, _Starfire _isn't the redhead to be worried about."

Her eyes widened. "You mean you're back together with Oracle?"

Dick shrugged. "Maybe," he said, half-sadly. "At least, I'd _like_ to be. But whether we're together or not, she _is_ pretty protective of me."

Shayera was silent for a minute. "Well, I can see why," she admitted. "If you were mine, I'd be protective of you too."

"Thanks, I think," Dick said in his best no-harm-done voice.

Shayera rolled her eyes. "Oh, _god_," she groaned. "How to _explain_ this? Look, I'll just say it. Nigh—Dick, I will never forgive myself for last night. I was out of control and it was completely wrong. And if you enjoyed it, that makes it even _more_ wrong. I just wish I could make you confess that it was all an act for you, because… honey, you're not my type."

She said it with so much shame in her voice that Dick nearly fell out of his seat. "You're cute," Shayera began to explain right away, "and _god_, you're talented, but I'm more attracted to the gruff, no-nonsense types. You know, the _serious_, militaristic guys. You're just… too nice. Too eager to please."

"So…no second date?" Dick asked with a smile. Before she could answer, he laughed. "Well. I'm a little bit heartbroken, but don't worry. I'll heal."

Those baby-blue eyes of his met hers, and seemed so unfazed and so honest that she couldn't help but feel a little twinge of insight. She raised her wineglass in a toast. "You always _do_, don't you?" she asked.

Dick picked up his own glass. "So far," he admitted, as humbly as possible. And then he clinked his glass to hers.

* * *

Later that night, sitting alone on a rooftop in Blüdhaven, Nightwing yawned. He'd gotten a few solid hours of sleep that morning, half-smothered under Shayera's very heavy wings, but he was still far from recovered from the exhausting all-nighter leading up to that.

_Can't quit now_, he scolded himself. _Lousy smugglers aren't going to reconnoiter themselves_.

Suddenly the hair on the back of his neck stood up, and he cast a leery glance over his shoulder into a particularly dark batch of shadows. Once he was sure he was right, he smiled.

"Scary as ever," he remarked. "What's up?"

Batman slid forward until he was silhouetted against the starless smog. "I wanted to talk to you."

"Uh oh."

"Actually, I wanted to ask you something."

"Hold it right there, Bruce. If _you_ ask me if you're gay, I'm going to jump off this roof."

"…You jump off these roofs all the time."

"Not my point."

The wind rustled Batman's cape, as if responding to his annoyance. "This isn't about me," he growled.

"_There's_ a first," Dick remarked cheerfully, rolling his eyes.

"Stop," Batman commanded. "I get enough _chatter_ from Tim. I don't need it from you."

Nightwing sighed. "So you wanted to ask me something," he recapped. "Ask away."

Batman hesitated. "When Shayera attacked you, you said you'd been through worse. What did you mean?"

For a split second, Nightwing's mask did nothing to hide his surprise. Then, smiling, he looked aside. "Wow. You still don't know about that? I mean, I knew Alfred could keep a secret, but I didn't really think he could keep one from you."

"What secret?" Bruce asked, with concern evident in his voice.

"Heh. Well, don't worry. At least you were right—for once it's _not_ about you. Remember Catalina Flores?"

"Tarantula," Bruce identified, recalling the fiery young vigilante who had briefly aided him during that bloody gang war in Gotham. "The one who killed Blockbuster."

"Yeah, her," Dick said. He took a breath. "Well, I hate to rehash the details, but basically, she got me into a compromising position, and I said no, but she didn't care. And apparently the old version of my suit was a little too easy to unzip." He sighed. "I told Alfred about it later, when I got shot and was all drugged up. But _wait_, before you say anything: it's okay. I handled it. What she did to me personally doesn't matter now. She's in prison, and justice has been served."

Bruce was silent for a long moment. What Dick had just revealed to him was yet another in a seemingly endless list of traumatic experiences that the young man had survived.

"…How did you recover?" Bruce asked at last.

Dick shrugged. "Alfred helped. So did _you_, actually, when you talked to me about Blockbuster. But for the most part, I don't know. I guess that's just who I am. I fall, and then I pick myself back up."

Somehow, across time and space and infinite universes, that truth was the key that locked Batman and the soul of Dick Grayson together, and Bruce knew it from the bottom of his heart. It wasn't about tragedy. It was about what one man could choose to do _after_.

"Dick," Bruce said, voice charged with emotion. "I want you to know something. If anything ever happened to me, and there was still a need for all this… you wouldn't _have_ to do it. You wouldn't have to be Batman. You could walk away, be _anything_—a husband, a father— for the rest of your life, and I would be proud of you. But _if_ you were ever to become Batman, you'd be a _better_ one than I am. Better than I ever was."

Dick eyed him in suspicion. "Oh-kay, Bruce. Did _Clark_ put you up to this?"

Bruce hunched his shoulders. "…Maybe," he admitted in a low growl.

Laughing, Dick shook his head. "Well, thanks anyway. It means a lot—but out of curiosity… have you lost your mind? What's all this about _'if I'm ever Batman'_? Last I checked, that was _never_ going to happen."

"You were assaulted by an alien," Bruce grumbled. "According to the Question, that was supposed to happen to _me_. It's likely that in another dimension, you're wearing the cowl."

Dick grinned. "Because it's _the Question_, I'm going to ignore how ridiculously far-fetched that is and just ask: If _I'm_ Batman, what are you? _Robin?_"

Bruce returned his expression with a faint trace of a smile. "Hopefully, in that world, I'm at peace," he said.

"Jeez," Dick shuddered. "Only you could say something like that and make it sound not only creepy, but completely depressing."

"Hn." Batman peered down over the edge of the roof at the group of shady characters that had just started to emerge from their den. "About the incident with Hawkgirl," he muttered, redirecting the conversation. "I'm correct in assuming you're both over it?"

"Absolutely," Nightwing replied, eyes trained on a man in black trench coat far below. "Just do me one favor, and don't tell Barbara about it, okay?"

"…You _are _aware she has access to complete audio and video surveillance of the tower," Batman said flatly.

Trench coat man turned _just so_ under the dim glow of a flickering streetlamp, revealing a tommy gun in his hands. "That does it," Dick said, eyes on the bad guy. "I'm jumping off this roof."

Batman readied his grapple, and might have smiled.

"Lead the way."

THE END!

(for real this time!)

* * *

_Another Author's Note: so... the reason I originally cut all that out of the story was because it's all about Nightwing, and this was supposed to be a Justice League fic, with Nightwing only appearing to take Bruce's place as the 'victim' of the alien attack. But, for those of you who might've wondered what happened to Bruce after Shayera beat him up... now you know. Thanks for reading!! XD_


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